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EO 4999 OTT.odt
””-- 4999 OTT The crumbling walls of Olafson Burg were no longer on his mind, Volund was no the steward of Ragnarsson Rock, Erik Gustav had kept word and had given him unlimited power of all that was Ragnarsson on this world. There were Tanneries in the extensive basements, several Nubhir Farms on the permanent ice of the Southern pole region and a large Fangsnapper herd, but most of all there were five modern and well kept fishing boats and three Hunting subs in the cave like voluminous Submarine Den. Volund was once more doing what he loved best. He commanded the Hunting Subs, harassed the boats of the Clans of the East and returned to the Xchange at Halstaad Fjord with Three Fins and Tyrannos in tow. Life was good and the name Olafson once again spoken with respect at the Xchange Cafe and the Inns. He had just returned from another long trip to the Uhim grounds and decided to have a few tankards at Hogun's Inn. His second born also had married, in a small and far less spectacular ceremony and to a daughter of an eastern clan, no one of the Western Clans really knew much about. Hogun's wife, a Bredeberg however inherited an Inn, her father won in a gambling venture. So now Hogun had become an Inn Keeper and it was clear that this was his true calling. Hogun's Inn became one of the most popular Inns of Halstaad Fjord, not in the least due to the cooking and grilling skills of Hogun and the collection of local and Off World beers and ales he offered. It was the very Inn he had net the old Ragnarsson and where his fortune and the fate of the Olafson clan changed forever. Fights and brawls were a thing of the past, at least in Hogun's Inn. No one in his right mind wanted to make Hogun angry. It did not take long and almost inhuman body strength became the source of many tales and stories. Volund greeted his second born and grabbed his underarm in the traditional greeting. “The hunt was good, my son. Let me celebrate with my men under thy roof and bring good ale and hardy food. The boats are fine indeed but the cooking skills of my men are much to be desired.” While Hogun went into the kitchen to personally fry a few Tyranno Steaks for his father and the boat crew, Pit one of the Freemen working for Hogun served tankards of mead and ale. The mood was merry and the food was good. The hours went on an Oddløg, celebrated for his expert harpooning that killed a Tri Halfer was comfortably drunk as she staggered into the back to relieve himself. While Hogun had spend considerable money to install modern Union grade recycler bathroom stalls and urinals, he had a hard time making the long time patrons using it. The old Vikings much rather went, out in the back as they had done so many times before. During Short Summer it stank horrible, despite the Gong Farmers, Low men paid by the Inn Keepers to remove the disgusting mess left behind. Until recently the Low men had to use pick axes to break the frozen mess from the old Sea Wall that begun right behind the row of Inns and taverns, of which Hogun’s Inn was one. Hogun however paid one of his own employees and to clean a good section every day with a high pressure washer to keep the mess managed and placed big signs everywhere inviting them to use his modern toilets. All this was of no concern to Oddløg, he had pissed against that Sea Wall behind the inn for as long as he could remember and he would do so tonight. He was just about to relieve himself as a movement just out of his field of view made him turn his head. He laughed rough. “Aye the spears and harpoons of Olafson warriors are legendary in size and length, are you ashamed of yours or why are you hide in the shadows ?” A woman of all things stepped into the yellowish light of an age old lumi plate glued to the back of a building. “Oh I remember the Spears of the Olafsons, yours is rather pathetic.” Of course the back of the Inns were frequented by the harlots and prostitutes of the lowest kind. Seeking to earn an Iridium Coin to support their usually fatherless families of Low men living on the outskirts of town. The Circle of Elders tried to prohibit it, but it was an open secret among the Freemen and the Clan born alike. However she didn’t really talk like one. He said. “After I am done you better be gone or I tan your hide, harlot.” “Of course you will and you one eyed bastard don’t even remember who I am.” She raised a small pen like device and something sharp pierced Oddløg’s skin right underneath his chin. She came closer, now he recognized the woman, it was Gretel. She wore a red dress underneath her cloak and said. “What a fitting place for you to die. I had to hide in a barrel of piss to hide from your master, now you going to drown in it.” Oddløg, tried to reach for what stung him, but he could not. Gretel laughed, and said. “Go get him boys, he is all yours.” A gang of ragged looking Low men peeled from the shadows, armed with clubs and pick axes. They would have never dared attacking a Clan Warrior. Oddløg could not even lift a hand, his muscles felt like blubber, as the four low men started to hit him. He could not even yell for help or raise alarm and he fell face first into the the yellow snow and ice and saw his own blood flow and freeze. The last thing he heard was Gretel's cold laugh. “You are only the first.” --””-- No one could tell Volund where Oddløg was even after almost a month, no one had seen his right hand man. Now crime and murder were rare but not entirely uncommon. The Olafsons had a fair share of enemies among the Clans of the West and then of course there were the Clans of the East , the Pirates of the Black Clan and there was Oddløg's temper. He never could stay out of a fight, pass a brawl or not get mixed up in a duel. Volund was sure his friend had met his fate, or he would have shown up by now. There was no police or anything like that on Nilfeheim except at the space port but the Space Port security would and could not enforce the law beyond the space port. Volund only noticed Oddløg missing after almost three days, as he had a serious hangover and suspected Oddløg to sleep his of in the bed of a Low men wench . He did call the Union Clinic but Oddløg had not been there and had not been treated recently. Volund felt the loss and was sad that he could not give his friend a decent burial. But then the new burg had many warriors and Volund hoped that wherever Oddløg found his fate , he did it fighting and would be welcomed at the table of the Aseir. What distraught him more were the reports that his son was no longer spending much time with Ilva but was seen almost daily flying to town and return late. That a man of his strength had a few concubines on the side was understandable, even though it was neither traditional nor proper. Volund himself had cheated a few times on his beloved wife while she was alive, a fact he regretted now. But the good news were that Ilva was now pregnant, and Hogun's wife who also was a midwife told him the good news, after nature took his course and in about eight month there would be twins and if the midwife was right, one of the twins would be a boy. He had just returned from Halstaad Fjord, talking to Hogun and friends hoping he would hear news of Oddløg being simply sick or still drunk or perhaps nursing the bruises of a fight he lost, but no one had heard or seen him. Going to town use do be a long trip with an ice skimmer boat , but the Ragnarsson burg came with three expensive Arti Grav Skimmers and he loved using the expensive and luxurious Volvo. As he landed he noticed the big GM skimmer Isegrim more or less had made his own. He also saw a gray dressed man, he had seen around before. He did not wear any Clan colors at all, but Volund remembered seeing the man several times in the company of Isegrim. “Servant speak quick have you seen my son?” “Aye Sire, he is down at the Submarine Den, most likely using the bunk of the lead boat with his guest.” “What guest?” The man had a pointed nose and his dark eyes gleamed with a strange fire he said. “Lord Volund, do not let me be the bearer of such news. I spoke to much already” “Tell me!” “A woman that is not his wife. Her name is Gretel Hemstaad.” Volund actually grabbed the man by the collar. “It cannot be! Tell me all you know or die!” “Unhand me Sir., I am by command thy servant, not thy slave. Your son is bedding a woman that is not his wife and he does it right here on the burg for many days now. He is using the bunks in the fishing boats, but everyone knows.” In his anger, he still noticed that there was something eerie familiar about the man he assumed was a servant of the Ragnarssons. Volund let the man go, cold anger knotting his stomach. “Does Ilva know” “She is pregnant and I doubt anyone had the heart to tell her, Sire.” Then he almost whispered. “Does Erik Gustav know?” “You are the steward, of this rock but it is the Burg of Ragnarsson. Little happens between this walls that is eventually carried to his ears, but for now he is far away.” Volund stomped towards the stair house and the long flight of steps that led down to the Submarine den. “Let us end this madness, before he returns and hears about it. Bring a weapon and tell my thy name. “I am Harkun, Sire.” Again there was a very odd expression on the strange man. Volund was to much angered to ask more questions. Volund did not want to go back to his crumbling burg,he had tasted the power and the wealth of Ragnarsson. He also remembered the oaths and the promises taken. Isegrim had sworn in the presence of the Elders to honor and cherish his bride and be as true as Balder himself. Oaths and promise done upon the Spear of Odin in front of all the Elders were perhaps the most sacred custom of all Nilfeheim. If word came before the Elders, or Erik Gustav all that was won could be lost. The flight of stairs was long and steep. Steps made of Duro Crete wound down to Sea level, almost 200 meters. And he did make it to the last landing, as he saw Isegrim standing there at the bottom of the stairs, “By Odin where is the Wench?! She escaped the sword somehow the last time but by the Gods she will not see the light of day again and you son will learn that you are not to old to feel my hand like you never felt it before.” Isegrim simply laughed. “I am soon the Lord of the Clan. Your time has come old man, I won't be a mere steward, I will be master. She is not here and this is a trap we set for you.” Someone pushed Volund with great force from behind and he lost the footing, only now did he notice the shimmering fat smeared over the next steps, there was nothing to hold on, no hand rail. He fell and tumbled down the stairs, Isegrim stepping aside to kick his father, who had survived the stumble more stunned than truly hurt, but like a mad man Isegrim did not let up and kept kicking his father, while the blonde woman laughed and cheered him on. The person who had pushed him came into Volund's view, it was the tall gray dressed man., holding a hammer of war. “I am Harkun, father. Born in wedlock to a Free woman you knew as Hildigunn. A woman you raped. I am a bastard aye, but I am your son. The stranger brought down the hammer in a bone crushing blow onto Volund's legs.”My mother shunned by her family and shamed killed herself!” Another blow, Volund groaned in mind numbing pain. “Not like this! I want to fight!” Isegrim uncoiled a steel cable. “Remember the whip father? I had this made especially for you and carried it for this day. We know you would come and waited for you.” The Whip snapped across Volund's raised arms. Harkun brought down the Hammer again.”You die by the hands of your Sons. Beaten to death like a mangy Nubhir wolf.” The next blow broke Volund's skull and the Clan chief of the Olafsons died with a wet gargling sound. Isegrim clasped Harkun's arm. “I am Clan chief now and as soon as my bear betrothed wife gives me the son she bears, I kill her and the child and inherit it all. Then my brother I marry the one I truly love and you will be raised to prominence and I give you the Olafson Burg that is no vacant and much of Ragnarsson riches for your own Clan to rise.” “We shed the blood of our Sire together, brother. I will serve you and be your Man servant for no one shall know my heritage, until that day you make true of your word.” Isegrim uncorked a bug bottle of ale and poured a generous helping over the bloody heap that was once was his own father. “He really should have been more careful on those slippery stairs while drinking all this Ale.” ---””--- The news of Volund's dead traveled fast, two Elders did arrive an entire day later. Examined the body and the stairs. Noticed the broken bottle and the strong smell of Ale and aquavit and declared the death a tragic accident and confirmed that Isegrim indeed was the new Clan Chief of the Olafson Clan. This part of Isegrims's plan went well and he did act like a grieving son should, but the rest did not go as planned. The Elders confirmed that Volund and Erik Gustav did make a witnessed contract to make the yet unborn son the heir of it all and the contract also only named Volund as the steward and made no mention of Isegrim. All bank accounts were closed to him and the Ragnarsson Warriors,freemen and Servants refused to obey his commands until the situation was settled. Erik Gustav Ragnarsson himself was already on his way to be present at the birth of his grand children. He was informed about the accident and sent message he would take matters in hand as soon as he arrived. As he wanted to visit his pregnant wife,he noticed two big Ragnarsson Warriors Reinhold and Orkning standing outside his wives chambers, each of them resting their gloved fists on large swords and wearing full Warriors dress. Both men were known to be among the finest Swords men second perhaps only to Erik Gustav himself. Isegrim growled at them “What is this? I have not ordered any guards, remove thyself . These are my wife's chambers and these premises are the realm of the Clan Chief alone. Now begone!” Reinhold's fist made a gnarling sound as it slowly gripped the hilt. “Oh aye, Isegrim of the Olafsons this is indeed the Realm of the Clan Chief but is not thine. The true lord of this burg may command us, until he declares you the steward, thy commands are not mine to obey.” Orkning moved his hand over the hilt as well. “You can of course seek dominion and lordship over us the Viking way and challenge us. Oh aye Isegrim fight one of us and succeed and the rest of Ragnarsson folk will follow you.” Isegrim was strong, but never really practiced the old skills, he was a decent harpooner and he gained skill with the Cable whip he loved, but deep down and past all his bluster and bravado he was coward and snorted, “It is good my wife's Chambers are guarded after all and Erik Gustav is only days away. “ Isegrim leaned forward and said. “I will be master of this burg and then your fate will change.” “We are Free Warriors Isegrim we can chose and decide to challenge you at any time. Rest assured our step is surefooted and you won't find us on slippery stairs.” Isegrim clenched his fists and passed the two warriors and entered Ilva's chambers. He had to admit even pregnant she was a beauty of no compare. Somewhere deep down he wondered himself why he was drawn to Gretel. The Nubhir herder's daughter had returned and was even more voluptuous than before. She was vulgar and had an abrasive demanding character. Ilva on the other hand was gentle and loving and always proper. Gretel had been gone for years then a letter reached him, perfumed and on real paper wanting to meet him at the Space port. He went perhaps more out of curiosity and as he saw her and after a drink they had together he realized he was still deeply and madly in love with Gretel. At least this was how he described this burning desire to to do what Gretel wanted, it had to be love. Nothing else made a man act like such a fool. He told Ilva his version of the events and she condoled him by embracing him in her soft arms, believing every word he lied to her. In he arms he even more felt confused about his strange attraction to Gretel.. He caressed Ilva's golden hair. It was soft and had a shine of gold. Gretel's hair did not feel like this and it had the color of dirty straw. “Say my beloved wife, how are things with you then? Do you feel well?” “Quite so Isegrim, the babies are doing fine. Your brother's wife is a good midwife and I did see the Union Doctor too.” “How long do you think?” “The doctor thinks it will be late October and Freydis thinks it is due early October. So I thin it will happen right in the middle.” It was August already and, only two maybe three month at most. When his Son was born and had his naming day, he inherited everything according to the pact Volund and Erik Gustav made. So all he had to do was kill his son and by default inherit it all. Of course he had to kill Ilva too but that is what Gretel wanted anyway and then she could move to the Burg and be his wife. -””-- Category:Fragments Category:Fragments - Eric Olafson